


The world dying around them

by Cactusepique



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: A tiny bit of awkwardness, A tiny bit of sillyness, Blind Character, F/M, PWP, Piano Kink, Vault porn, abled writer writting a disabled character, gratuitous use of French
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 12:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11059416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cactusepique/pseuds/Cactusepique
Summary: Basically, vault porn with a tiny bit of sentiment and sillyness.Set after Oxygen but before Extremis.





	The world dying around them

**Author's Note:**

> Quickly written while trying to cope with university work (because coping involve needing smut). 
> 
> English isn't my first language, I'll be very grateful to anyone who would point any mistake out. 
> 
> Gratuitous use of French (not much, and with translations, no worries), just because.

He’d adored watching her play. 

His eyes couldn’t see her anymore, but her image was vivid and burning in his mind –back straight, shoulders relaxed, her fingers hitting the keys with practiced perfection. 

He closed his eyes by habit, thought of birds and colourful summer fruits. 

The world shrunk down to include only him and Missy. 

The music. 

“Missy,” he called, almost hesitant. 

In an instant she was there, and he extended his hand for her to take. She guided him to the piano, sat back on the bench, made him sit beside her. 

She kissed the tip of his nose and he grunted in annoyance. 

She’d started playing again, a tune he didn’t recognise. 

His left hands found the small of her back and he drew small circles on her skin over the soft silk of whatever she was wearing. 

He enjoyed the delicate feel of the material, enjoyed even more knowing the thin barrier was the only thing between their skins. His hand traveled up her spine, and he discovered the low cut of her garment was leaving most of her back naked. He smiled, cup his palm and fingers around the back of her neck, concentrate on how her whole body moved with the motion of her hands on the piano.

“On fait l’amour maintenant ou on mange d’abord?” Missy asked. (Editor’s note: “Do we make love now or do you want to have dinner first?") 

French was foreign enough for both of them to serve as a filter between their words and the emotions at their origin, yet sufficiently intimate to let a tiny bit of togetherness knitted itself between them. 

He smiled, ran his hand along the length of her right arm until he reached her hand and covered it with his own. 

“Joue encore un peu pour moi, s’il te plait.” (“Play a little more for me, please.”)

His fingers nested themselves in the little spaces between her own, her skin incredibly thin and soft there. Fingers intertwined, hands brushing, they played together like this for a little while. Single-handed practice, nothing fancy. Little notes falling like rain over a roof window.

He let go of her hand, traveled back up her arm to her shoulders. He pulled down on the straps of her nightdress. Then he slid off the bench, knelt behind her, encircling her middle with his arms, his hands flat on her soft belly. 

He imagined her, eyelashes dark against her cheeks, clear blue eyes. He pressed his lips –wet, hot, open mouth— on one of her vertebras. His hands caressed her thighs, fingers pressing gently to part them, skimming inward. 

She stopped playing, inhaled sharply. She escaped his embrace for an instant, but then she was there again, straddling him, pressing him to the floor. 

It was madness and yet it felt strikingly right.

Everything had already built up inside him and a low moan escaped him when his hands found her utterly naked. She was undressing him, a task made difficult by his hands refusing to stop touching her for even a second. He was not the most skilled of lovers, but he made up for it in his singled-mindedness. She gave up and let him partially undressed, his shirt opened and hanging loosely on his shoulders, his trousers and pants stuck around his ankles, his socks and shoes still on. 

She wrapped her fingers around him and he moaned quietly, head dropping to one side, fingers uselessly scrapping across the wooden floor. She searched his eyes, found them clouded and unfocused, remembered bluntly he couldn’t see her.  
He let her coax him into orgasm, felt tremors running through his body, his spine going taunt, his fingers curling inside his palms. 

Something unfolded inside him as he came with a soft cry. 

Missy laughed, bent down to kiss his lips, ran her hand through his hair. She played with it, twisting it into pointy little spikes. 

“Let me guess, I’ve got cum in my hair now,” he sighed. 

“You’ve come like a jogger stopping his running to marvel at the beauty of a small daisy,” she laughed. 

“What?”

“Yeah, you went all like…,” 

He grabbed hold of her and flipped them over before she could start to mimic him. She cried in surprise, them laughed openly under him, and he couldn’t help but love her for that. His hand palmed the side of her neck, thumb tracing her jaw. His mouth latched onto her neck. 

She growled beautifully. 

He moved intently down her body, grunting in frustration when he realised his pants and shoes were still on. He struggled to kick them off, Missy sat up, swiftly got rid of everything. 

Then for a second they sat together, and she welcomed him in her arms, hugging him. Her hand rested on his cheek, he cradled her face, and they kissed. They kissed and kissed until one of them remembered to breath. They parted, pressed their forehead together, reached out tentatively with their minds, barely brushed against each other. 

This was too much. 

“Are you,” he started off, cleared his throat. Fell silent. 

She caressed his cheek with one delicate finger, then his nose, his brow, the shell of his ear. 

“Prends-moi.” (“Take me.”)

He felt himself blushed and smiled. He imagined her and didn’t resist the urge to map her face with his fingers –her lips, swollen and wet, the line of her nose…a curl of hair was clinging to her temple, he brushed it away. 

He cradled the back of her head with one arm, pushing her down to the floor with the other. Being held felt good, and she shivered hard and tight as he settled between her outstretched legs. He kissed her inner thigh, breathed her in. 

“J’ai envie de toi, tellement, tellement, tellement” (“I want you. So much, so much, so much.”), she sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to rush him if he’d decided to take his damned time.

He let his breath wash over her, licking slow and tender at the crease of her thigh. She threaded her fingers through his hair, tried to guide him were she wanted him. 

He chuckled, low and throaty. 

“I won’t make you beg,” he promised. 

He dipped his head to her again, felt the fine curve of her heels dug into his back. His nose nudged her and she opened herself wider, thrashing and crying out when he finally licked at her. The sounds he was making were overwhelmingly sexual –low, amorous hums that reverberated through her. His fingers teased her, never slipping inside her properly but mapping the edge of her entrance, driving her mad. 

Her body writhed, tremors running through it, and her climax took her almost violently. 

She scratched her nails viciously over his shoulder blades, trembling beneath him. She pressed her hand to her mouth, tried to calm her ragged breath. He’d released her, and he pressed a hand against her sternum, felt her hearts –clamorous, beating loudly in her chest.

“Come here,” he said, rolled them over until he was the one on his back against the cold, harsh floorboards and she was almost resting completely on top on him. 

She was still shivering delicately. 

He stroked her hair. 

She kissed his clavicle. 

Her smile against his skin. 

 

He thought about the world dying around them. 

 

He wondered if Bill had called Penny.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! 
> 
> Comments are always appreciated! They'd make me happy, and happiness would help me deal with the university work, thus thanks to you I'd get my master (degree)!!


End file.
